The Gape Winds
by LowlifeTheory
Summary: Fantasy AU. Stiles is being guided by the hands of fate, he just doesn't know where. And who all lives in the castle?
1. Mud Lizard

I don't own Teen Wolf. I do own the sandbox I've opened up to play with here.

When a Gape wind blows,

A man can lose his soul,

And only the best riders

Can get it back,

So tell me,

Traveller,

What will you pay me,

To ride into the Gape wind

And pull your soul free?

Stiles's mouth ached for water; his head throbbed with the need of it. His teeth were bone dry. He stumbled again as he crossed the rough land, landing hard on one knee in the mud. Pausing he bent to pick up a handful of mud, squeezing it through his fingers until brown moisture was left. He closed his eyes and eased the tip of his tongue out to touch the mess. It was foul and he hated himself for it, but it was all he had. There was no water for miles, just mud and rough grassland. He had left the forest long ago, left the fruits and nuts and the gentle stream offered to him by nature and now all he had was the horizon. He didn't know where he was going; he just knew he was being drawn that way. He cursed his gift, for this time it looked like it was going to kill him.

The mud sucked his foot in, trapping him and forcing him to pull his leg back in order to free himself. It didn't work and he fell forward. His woollen pants tore, and he cursed an oath to the gods of mud, if there were such things, promising to find and punish them for their cruelty. As an afterthought he sent thanks to the gods of rain because rain helped make mud and it didn't do to piss off ones family.

'What have we got here?' A voice asked above him. He flailed and twisted. There looming above him was a red haired angel. An angel of death. His mother had described many angels to him when he was a boy, and told him of their purposes. This one was so beautiful that the only good thing she could bring to a man's soul was a kind death.

'It looks like some sort of mud lizard.' A male voice said, the head coming into view. He sneered at Stiles, rolling in the mud, trying to find purchase to get himself back onto his feet. The toe of a boot tapped his side. 'Are you?'

'Am I what?' Stiles asked. There was a water bottle at the man's hip. Stiles eyed it, licking his lips, not caring of the dirt. His throat itched with the need of moisture. He didn't think he'd ever have enough water again.

'A mud lizard.' The man asked, curling his lip in disgust.

'Share your water and I'll tell you.' Stiles said finally able to sit up. The man snorted but he tugged the bottle from its holder and tossed it to him. It was one of the expensive lambskin bottles, strong and durable. Stiles uncapped it and swallowed large mouthfuls, groaning as the cool liquid quenched his thirst. He drank half the bottle before wiping his mouth with his sleeve, realising belatedly that he'd smeared more mud over his cheeks.

'Well.' The angel asked.

'I'm a man, lost and needing shelter.' He said looking into her eyes. 'I'm a hard worker, and I can read. If you have a place for me, I'll pay you back. I can heal minor ailments too.' He said. He put his best begging eyes on; they had earned him more than a dry bed and full belly before. He showcased his best skills. Truth be told, Stiles could turn his hand to almost anything, a man needed to be able to do that in his situation.

She frowned but finally reached a hand out to help him. 'Werewolf.' His mind screamed as he wrapped his fingers around her hand. He could see the intricate web of her mind, twisting and curling around itself, woman and wolf together as one. She had good control; she must have been born this way. The man hoisted him up by the arm, steading him on his feet. He was a werewolf too but his touch was too slight for Stiles to read him. Stiles swallowed, looking between them for a second. Werewolves were dangerous creatures, fond of blood, and human bones. Several of the werewolves he had come across in the past had forced him to learn to be fast of foot, among other things. He shuddered remembering the day he found an Alpha wolf happily sucking the marrow from children's bones. At least his saviours weren't vampires; he couldn't abide their sickly skin. Some werewolves were reasonable.

'I'm Lydia. This is Jackson.' Lydia said.

'Lord Jackson.' Jackson corrected her with a sneer. She rolled her eyes.

'We were heading to the castle. Is that your destination?' She asked. Stiles could feel the hands of fate curling themselves around these people and he knew he needed to go with them. He had never felt the hands before, but his mother promised him that when he did feel them, he would know exactly what they were. The feeling was impossible to describe, and he was about to step into the unknown. That was nothing new; Stiles had never been this far north before.

He looked to where Lydia was pointing. In the distance he could see grey walls. He wondered how he had missed it before. The castle was well disguised. There was a thick forest behind it. Stiles wondered why they were crossing this marsh rather than going through the trees, where werewolves were naturally drawn. Perhaps fate was guiding them today too.

'Come on. Let's start walking.' Jackson said, pushing Stiles slightly. Stiles eyed him, noting the sword that swung by his hip, the hammer and knives in his belt and the small pack he carried. Lydia had a belt for knives, and nothing else. He started off behind Jackson, moving quickly over the mud, least it try to eat him again. He blushed when his stomach gave a loud rumble, but the werewolves ignored it. He thought back to his last meal, a handful of nuts he found in the sparse forest that lead to the marshes. That had been around sun up, it was now midday, but the sun high in the sky and half hidden by dirty clouds did little to warm the breezes that clutched at their clothes.

The castle walls loomed high before them as they approached, grey stone blending into the dull sky. It was wet, a soft mizzle of rain seeping into his clothes. Instead of going directly to the gates he was led across a wooden rope bridge that swayed with movement. There was a small door, nestled in the wall. Lydia rapped her leather gloves against it and waited a few moments before repeating her actions. It swung open slowly, a gnarled face peering around it. The man's eyes were yellowed, and he had few teeth in his wide mouth. He gave Stiles a grotesque smile that disappeared when Jackson made a noise in his chest. The man ducked his head and scurried to let them through, closing the door behind them with a heavy thump.

They were immediately in a busy market place. The smell of hot bread and burned meat reached his nose. Stiles's stomach leapt in excitement at the thought of being full. He couldn't remember the last time he had filled his belly to the point of sleepiness; he always got just enough to keep him going, if that. He licked his lips, eyes roaming around him, but the food wasn't the only excitement.

Animals were tethered, horses beside goats. Dogs chased cats through the mud and pigs grunted, nosing through the rubbish for something to eat. Men and women bartered, swapping coin and wares, laughing and talking. A shout drew Stiles's attention and a handsome young man come rolling out of a tavern, followed by another, this one older and bearded. 'Keep away from my wife!' He snarled. A young woman in a rag of a dress was behind him. She looked longingly at the young man before fleeing back inside at her husband's growl. The young man was facing the older man as a few guards made their way towards him.

'Come on.' Jackson said behind him, wrapping a hand around his arm and leading him forward through the sludge over wooden slats. Stiles wanted to look around him, wanted to investigate the traders and their goods, wanted to watch the animals wrestle and fight and play but he was lead through a gateway and up a slight hill. There were lots of small buildings around them ranging from brick houses to wooden lean-to's against the stone walls. 'Move.' Jackson said again. Stiles tried to pull his arm out of Jackson's grip but it was no use, Jackson was strong compared to Stiles, who hadn't eaten properly in days.

They followed the wooden slats up the hill towards a castle. 'The dungeons are deep below the ground. The mines are down there too.' Lydia explained.

'Mines?' Stiles asked.

'Yes. Silver mines.' Jackson answered. They headed towards a door at the side, Stiles's feet slipping in the mud as he was taken off the path. Jackson and Lydia were sure footed in their sturdy boots. The door opened just before they got there and a wild eyed woman rushed towards Stiles, her dirty hands gripping his arm.

'Cut me.' She begged. Her hair was filthy; there were several cuts on her face and neck. 'Cut me.' She repeated pulling her torn sleeves up to show him the insides of her forearms. Long white scars threaded from her elbow to her wrist, old wounds clearly healed. 'Cut me.' She was almost sobbing now.

'Oh for Fenrir's sake. Allison!' Lydia said behind him. A pretty dark haired girl came out the door just as Lydia shouted.

'Kate, what are you doing out here.' The girl, Allison, said kindly, talking the woman's hands and leading her away from Stiles. 'We were eating lunch.'

'Lunch?' Kate asked softly. Allison nodded, her curls bouncing around her head.

'Lunch.' She agreed. 'Come on now love, come inside.' She took the woman's hands and placing an arm around her, guided her inside the door. Lydia followed with a grim face.

'It's ok.' Jackson said putting a hand on Stiles's shoulder in a surprisingly comforting gesture. 'It's ok. Come on.' He guided Stiles in through the door, placing his hand over the top of Stiles's head and forcing him to duck. They walked down a short stone lined corridor and turned into a busy kitchen. People were bustling around everywhere, carrying trays of food in various stages of perpetration. There were three fires and ovens as well as work benches and tables. A long seat was against one wall with soft inviting cushions and folded blankets. Stiles decided he could live here for the rest of his life. He was guided to the table where the woman, Kate, from moments ago was tearing bits of bread to tiny pieces and using it to scoop a thick soup from a bowl. Stiles decided he wanted bread and soup, and some of the meat, and perhaps vegetables, and potatoes oh gods the potatoes, a hot potato to warm his cold belly, and mead to wash it down. Or just clean water. He wouldn't be greedy, a heal of loaf and a cup of water would be more than enough.

'Sit.' Lydia said pulling a chair out for him and pushing him onto it. A plump lady with a red face appeared at his elbow setting a plate of bread beside him then pushing a spoon into one of his hands. The soup appeared as if from nowhere. 'Give it a minute.' Lydia warned from beside him, already tearing bread up for her own bowl. 'Allison what happened?' Lydia nodded to the woman.

'She got out past Grip, he said he never seen her slip past him.' Allison scowled.

Lydia snorted. 'Grip misses nothing. He let her out for his amusement. Derek will have his head one day soon.'

'No he won't. Grip was here when Derek's father was a boy. Derek will probably move him from the gate but he's good, he'd never let an enemy past him.' Jackson said from behind Stiles.

'It was probably Dart, Grip's grandson.' Lydia mused. Allison made an agreeing noise in her throat. 'Grip's always covering for him, but that boy is trouble, you mark my words.'

'I agree. I don't know what Danny sees in him.' Allison muttered.

'A warm body in the winter.' Lydia pointed out. Allison nodded.

'Ouch!' Jackson cried out behind him. Stiles looked over his shoulder to see the same red faced lady that had set his soup down thumping Jackson with a wooden spoon.

'No weapons at my table!' She scolded. Jackson muttered something and went to the door to deposit the sword at his hip. Stiles turned back to his food. He dragged the spoon through the thick liquid. The first taste was hot, but it was easily swallowed.

'Wow.' He said.

'I know. It's Esme's spicy beef. No one knows what's in it but Esme.' Jackson said falling into the seat beside Stiles. 'That's her over there.' He said pointing to an old lady sitting in the corner knitting. 'They keep her here just for this.'

While he ate, he watched everyone move around the room. It was a busy place; there were constant visitors. A small boy came scurrying through it, flinging himself at Allison. She lifted him onto her lap and kissed his head but he reached a tiny hand out to Kate. She ignored him, her finger tracing the scars on her arms.

'That's her son.' Lydia said softly beside him.

'What happened to her?' Stiles asked.

'She was an assassin, sent by her family to kill the dark prince.' Jackson said. 'Her task was to seduce him and distract him, gain his trust and strike, but instead she fell in love. She went back home for several days and appeared with Allison, her niece, in tow. She was running away from her brother, coming here to be with the prince. She was pregnant when they found her and they tortured her until she almost lost her mind. They cast a spell on her where she had no choice but to obey a direct order from her brother, a spell that cannot be lifted. So he ordered her to kill herself, and when she sliced her skin, he ordered her to stop. When her mind was so far gone that the only alternative was death then he ordered her never to try and take her own life again.' Stiles frowned, he was familiar with a tale similar to what he just heard, but it didn't add up, there was something missing from Kate's story, something he felt and something he'd heard before.

Stiles watched her as she suddenly realised the boy was there. Her eyes were focused for just a second on him, before they seemed to glaze over and the knife by Allison's side drew her attention. Her mouth formed an o as she reached for it. Allison gently removed it from her fingers.

'Allison has taken care of her ever since.' Lydia said finally.

'And her mind is completely broken?' Stiles asked.

'Many healers have taken time to spend with her, she's never coherent for longer than a few seconds before she hides herself.' Lydia told him. Stiles finished the last of his soup.

'And the boy?' Stiles asked.

'He's a good boy.' Jackson said. His voice was loud enough that the child heard him and suddenly the dark haired boy was on top of the table running to Jackson. Kate laughed aloud at the boy's antics while the red faced cooked bellowed. The boy threw himself into Jackson's arms and Jackson hugged him close.

'Jackson is his godfather.' Lydia explained. 'Come, you need a bath and some clean clothes. Jackson was already halfway out of the room, the child in his arms. As he passed Kate, she looked into Stiles's eyes. He smiled at her, and reached a hand out to brush his knuckles over her cheek.

'Relax.' He whispered. She smiled softly at him, biting her bottom lip and ducking her head but reaching a hand up to touch his.

'Come.' Lydia's voice was firmer this time. They were in the hallway before she spoke again. 'What did you do to her?'

'I showed her a kindness. There's no comfort like the kindness of a stranger.' Stiles said. He hoped she bought it; he didn't want to be turfed out of this place. Not now. He didn't think he'd survive another winter alone. He may be young but his body was weak from years of malnutrition and running from unknown dangers that hunted him.

'Hm.' she sounded suspicious. Stiles let her believe what she wanted. He was here and for now that was enough. He made a note to explore the mines below, and if it looked like he were to be expelled from the castle that's where he would head.

He was taken up several flights of stairs and led along wide hallways, eventually turning into a large room. The bed sat in the middle, dominating the space, with warm blankets draped over it and high posts with thick heavy curtains to ward off the cold airs in the morning. There was a fireplace with a gentle fire burning in the grate. A basket of fuels sat by it. The floor was covered in various rugs. Another door led off it, into a room with a large tub. There was a complicated water heating system in the corner. 'This is where you'll be staying.' Lydia explained. 'The maids will be up soon to help you bathe.' She looked around her, as if they weren't alone. 'Look, normally this floor is for his close friends and what family he has left, but Jackson and I agreed there's something different about you. The dark Prince is, well, he's dark for want of a better description, and he needs to be treated with respect, but don't let him walk over you or, well, you'll see.'

'Is he a werewolf?' Stiles blurted. Lydia turned shocked eyes to him.

'How did you know?' She asked.

'You, I mean, you are one, you're one of his…' Stiles waved his hands around him, 'You belong to him…'

'How did you know?' She repeated. Stiles swallowed.

'When you touched me, I knew.' He bit his lip. 'Jackson too.'

She backed away from him a few steps. 'What are you?' She asked.

'Someone who can help.' Stiles answered. He should have held his tongue, he should have waited. Now wasn't the time for this. He should have had more patience. 'Please, I can, help I mean.'

'Help with what?' Her voice sounded frightened.

'Honestly, I don't know, but I will, when the help's needed, I'll know.' He said. She looked sceptical, he understood. He could barely understand what he was himself without having to explain it to a stranger.

'Bathe, change, and join us for dinner.' Lydia whispered and then she was gone, leaving him alone in the room. Stiles was used to being alone. He didn't need anyone to show him how things work, he always understood technology. It was one of his things; he understood almost everything he came into contact with, everything but himself.

When Kate had touched his arms, he had seen the twisted webs of her mind. His heart ached for her, because the knots were cutting too deep, were too tight to loosen. He could try, he thought, to relieve some of her pain, but the woman downstairs would never be herself. Too much was already lost. Sighing he began to heat the water; it had been almost two seasons since he last had a proper bath with warm water and clean soap. Watching the tub fill, his eyes misted over and he let it drift. Soon he would be warm and safe, and as long as these people had secrets of their own to keep, he was safe with his own.


	2. The Toy Sword

he came through ashes

to save flesh from fire

collecting a fathers jewel

and a mothers pride

saving two

those who could build

a ruling trinity

together

The water was warm as Stiles let his body sink deep into the bath. He'd already had a shallow wash, when he stood in the tub and scrubbed his dirty skin. The water had been thick with dirt around his feet when two young maids came to help him with the water. The sight of his naked butt had made them giggle and squeal and he'd offered them a wink for their attention. He was almost tempted to invite them to join him and give him a 'hand' but he was tired and still hungry and he didn't want the girls to spread lack of performance rumours about him before he even got settled so instead he invited them to join him during his next bath.

He closed his eyes and submerged himself completely for a second. The water was almost scalding and he knew his skin would be a soft pink colour when he came out but he didn't care. He was warm and safe from the elements outside. His skin prickled in that familiar fashion and he heard a distant rumble of thunder tonight. He was glad he had four walls and a roof for shelter rather than half a wall of a hovel somewhere. He thought about his father, wondered where he was tonight. The man was a legend still, he was sure he had a safe warm bed to rest on. Sighing he pulled himself from the bath and let the water flow out. He wrapped himself in a warm towel and looked out the window, watching as sheets of rain started to pelt the castle.

Stiles dressed himself in the fine clothes provided by the closet in his room. They weren't a bad fit, he decided, as he peered at his reflection. It had been a while since he seen himself. He had lost weight, but his skin was a healthy pink colour from the bath he just had, and his lips were red from where he'd been chewing them as he thought over his current situation. He looked at the meagre collection of possessions sitting on the desk beside the closet. There was a small slingshot, three tiny handmade luck trinkets that belonged to his mother and a small leather pouch containing some of his mother's beautiful golden hairs, along with his father's more rugged ones. His own from when he was a child was in there, along with preservation herbs. He wanted to squirrel his treasures on his body. The threat of being cast out into the rain without his charms was too great, but he also didn't want to start looking for subtle hiding places in his new clothes. Sighing he decided to leave his treasures here for now, moving quietly around the room and hiding them away.

Stiles had been told to join them for dinner, but he didn't know who they were or where dinner was being served. He opened the door, fully intending to explore, when he was met with a guard. He eyed the man curiously, wondering why he was there. He assumed he was a guest, but perhaps he was a prisoner. Or maybe they thought he was an assassin like Kate had been. He wasn't. It wasn't in Stiles's nature to kill. He would pick running over fighting anyway. It wasn't that he couldn't, he just preferred not to. The memories of how easily it had been to kill…he shook his head and grinned to the bored looking guard.

'Dinner?' The guard asked. So he was disguising himself as a guide. Clever. The sword at his hip though wasn't so clever. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, easily disguised as decoration, but Stiles knew this light steel could do a lot of damage.

'If you're buying.' Stiles teased. The man stared at him. No sense of humour, check. Stiles followed him as they headed back downstairs. Now that he'd been fed and cleaned up he took his time looking around. There were massive paintings and tapestries on the walls, each telling the story of a battle or a lost love, or some other type of old myth. Stiles promised himself that he would get a chance to study them someday soon. He also wondered where the library was, or if he was even allowed inside it. He had really fallen on his feet this time. He decided he'd do his level best to keep it that way, at least until his feet got itchy in the spring.

They arrived at the dinner hall several floors below where his room was, and he was shown inside. There were more guards here. A young woman approached him and it took him a moment to realise it was Lydia. She was wearing a soft blue gown, gathered at the hips and snug on her waist. Her hair was piled on top of her head and her face had been painted. She looked nothing like the warrior who had found him in the marshes. 'Come, sit by me.' She said, linking her arm through his and guiding him to a long table. It was already half full. In the middle sat a dark blond woman. To her right was a handsome man with dark hair and a sour complexion. To her left sat a younger man. His hair was lighter brown but his skin was slightly more tanned. Jackson gave Stiles a curt nod but everyone else ignored him as he took his seat. Allison was there, talking to a messy haired boy, but Stiles recognised no one else.

'That's the Queen.' Lydia said lowly. 'To her left is her younger brother Danny, to her right The Dark Prince.' Courses were served slowly but there was no structure, some ate before the Queen started, others continued after she finished. Stiles watched amazed as food came and went, people happily picking what they wanted.

'I prefer Derek.' The Prince said, not looking up from the meat he was pulling apart with his fingers. Lydia ignored him. Stiles wondered if it was wise to ignore someone known as "the Dark Prince" but he kept his thoughts to himself. The man was clearly a werewolf too. Stiles wondered if he was the Alpha while his sister took on the mantle of Queen. How did that effect royal siblings, being forced to choose their rank in the family. Stiles kept his thoughts to himself, studying from afar. Of course if he could just touch them it would help so much.

'You know Jackson, beside Derek, and Scott's beside Danny, and you know Allison.' Lydia finished. She sat back in her chair. She didn't bother with anyone else. Clearly they weren't important to her. Stiles watched covertly as Jackson and Derek chatted. The man seemed moody but Stiles wouldn't exactly call him Dark, but then these nicknames were created for a reason. He did know of the Prince's reputation on a battlefield. He preferred not to take prisoners because he hated wasting food on them, his favourite move was a sweeping beheading with a broadsword, even his war horse was supposed to eat the faces of enemies who got too close. All this Stiles had heard whispered in one tavern or another, but it was speculation. Stiles liked to deal in facts. It was his mother's way too.

The door opened and the woman Kate rushed in, eyes wide in a panic. She was carrying a toy sword beautifully carved from wood. She came to a stop by Allison, her hand dragging the blunt toy along her skin. 'Cut me.' She whispered. One of the guards moved to stop her but a sharp growl from the Queen had them step back. Kate's eyes caught Derek. She scrambled behind the chairs, handing him the toy. He took it gently, standing and stroking her hair, making soothing noises. She was having none of it, her eyes flitting around the room until they settled on Stiles. Leaving the toy with Derek she practically bolted from him to where Stiles sat, kneeling on the floor between him and Lydia. She took his arm and folded his hand into a loose fist, pressing his knuckles against her cheek and placing her own hand over his in a mockery of the way they had posed that afternoon.

Stiles turned in his seat and watched her relax as he touched her. The black strands of her mind were a mess, and Stiles didn't venture deep, just enough to sooth her, to try to understand her. Her eyes fluttered for a second before she closed them and sighed deep, pressing her cheek deeper onto his hand.

'What are you?' A hot voice growled in his ear. Stiles didn't react, didn't respond. He kept his eyes glued to the woman on her knees, massaging her mind for her. He studied her again, he would never be able to fix her, but he could help her. 'I said-'

'I know what you said.' Stiles's voice was soft. 'I'm busy, I'm helping her.' Allison appeared beside them, her hands on her aunt's shoulders, helping her to her feet. Stiles stood too, but he removed his hand. Her eyes drifted open, her mouth curved into a smile. She looked sweet like this. 'Come.' Allison said and Kate followed meekly like a lamb.

Suddenly Derek was there, dragging Stiles from the room and down one of the hallways. A guard moved to intervene but paused on Derek's look. A door was kicked open and Stiles found his back slammed into a cold stone wall. 'What did you do to her?' Derek snarled in his face. His eyes flickered between green and red.

'I soothed her, I helped her to relax.' Stiles said. He pressed his body close to the wall. Sure the Prince was a werewolf, but he had more control over his wolf that Stiles had ever seen. That being said, Stiles had learned his lesson when he tried his hand a t gambling. His left hand was still owed to river pirates in the west, and gambling was a long forgotten habit.

'How?' Derek asked.

'I don't know.' Stiles shifted, trying to move Derek from him. 'It's just something I can do; I've always been able to do it.'

'Are you a healer?' Derek said. Stiles met the Prince's eyes, they were hard and cold. He'd been hurt, so much hurt heaped on him. He wanted to help him too; suddenly he needed to fix whatever was wrong with the man in front of him.

'No.' Stiles swallowed. 'I don't know what I am. I've never met another like me.' It was true, even his mother was different, in her elevated status. Stiles knew exactly what his mother was; better again what his father was, but he had never known another like him. Derek nodded eventually his eyes flicking across Stiles's face.

'Ok.' He stepped back. Stiles got a chance to look around the room, it had stone walls and tapestries like the rest of the place but there was a large worn desk and comfortable chair. Bookshelves lined one of the walls, filled with leather bound tomes, some cracked at the spine.

'Is this the library?' Stiles asked. His eyes drifted higher to where scrolls of paper curled around each other, ink drying and faded.

'It's my study.' Derek said moving around the desk. 'How did you get here?'

'I was found in the bogs and marshes by Lydia and Jackson.' He said. Derek sent him another sharp look.

'Who walks across bogs and marshes?' He asked.

'Someone who's wise enough to avoid a forest.' Stiles replied. He'd done enough running the last few days. Derek snorted at his answer and turned to look out the window. Stiles wondered if Derek had any feelings for the woman Kate, but the grip Derek had on Stiles's arm, despite being bruising, wasn't enough to get a reading. In fact Stiles couldn't tell anything from it, not even his status as a werewolf. That had never happened before.

'Jackson seems to think there's something special about you.' Derek said sitting by the desk. He lifted a wooden puzzle and twisted it.

'Jackson's a clever guy.' Stiles said reaching for the puzzle. He twisted it several times and set it neatly solved on his desk. Derek growled. 'I know how to untangle things. I look at them and usually I know how to work them, like the water heating system in my room this afternoon or your puzzle. My mind unties knots and guides me through things, like a map.'

'And you can do this with Kate?' Derek said. He showed no emotion.

'No. I can solve things; I can fix something if there's a thread holding it. Kate's…completely broken. There's no way through the knots, some are too tight and some are just… snapped.' Stiles said. Describing a mind was a complicated thing, and he hated doing it.

Derek nodded and turned to look out the window. 'I worry sometimes that the child will be like her. He was in her womb when they…'

'I can't read a child's mind. It's impossible. They're young and confused, and there are far too many paths. There's a risk that I'll mistakenly urge them to grow up before their time.' Stiles said. Derek's back was to him.

'Leave now.' He said. Stiles stepped forward a second, but words, for the first time, escaped him. He turned and left the room. The man inside was in need of fixing, and Stiles, for the first time in his life, didn't know how. It wasn't like with Kate, her mind was irreparable, but the man in there didn't even offer a way in, or a path. In a way it was refreshing, not to be unwittingly dragged inside someone, not to see the puzzle and move the pieces until they slotted together.

The people Derek surrounded himself were significant. His sister may be the queen but Stiles had a feeling that Derek was the leader of this castle. Lydia had mentioned earlier that only certain people slept on the floor where the prince's bedroom was, and Stiles was one of them. He wondered who else Derek had on that floor. He slipped out of the door and made his way down the corridor. The dark haired young man who had been beside the queen passed him in the corridor.

'Don't mind him.' He said. 'I'm Danny.'

'You have no nickname?' Stiles asked. Danny grinned easy.

'I have no nickname. Just plain old Danny.' He stuck his hand out. Stiles shook it. Danny's mind was like none he'd seen before; it was vast, with large empty spaces. It was focused on a person, but Danny himself wasn't sure who that was. There were images of the castle where they stood now from the air, and of the landscape. Stiles had never met a mind like this before, but he knew what he was instantly.

Danny wasn't directly related to Derek and the queen, instead he had been adopted. He was a dragon boy, still searching for a mate. Stiles could feel his frustration in not recognising who his mate was, and with time Stiles could help him but he forced himself to pull back, to pull away and not let the man in front of him know that Stiles was able to see more than he should. 'Do you have a library?' He asked.

'The best books are in Derek's office, but yes, it's in the basement, deep in the caves. I'll take you there in the morning but the weathers nasty outside and the rain will turn to ice at some point so you should probably get to your room and get warmed up.' Danny said looking away from Stiles.

A young man was slinking towards them, youthful face round with excitement, blond hair neatly combed. 'New friend Danny?' He asked, eying Stiles.

'Hey Dart.' Danny said. 'This is Stiles.'

'Grandpa told me about him. Seen him earlier. Didn't take him for your type.' Dart said, eyes flicking between Danny and Stiles. Stiles didn't need to be a reader to know Dart was jealous.

'I'm not his type.' Stiles said. 'Thanks for the advice Danny; I'll see you in the morning.'

'After breakfast.' Danny promised. Stiles nodded and headed back towards his room. There was no escort this time but he didn't dawdle. When he got into the room he was shocked to find someone had been there. Three books lay on the bed, a leather bound journal, complete with maps of the castle and notes on its history, a thick tome about the history of the area surrounding the castle, and a fragile paper on mythical beasts, including dragons and werewolves. The front of it had the two beasts twined with a man. Stiles bit his lip and removed the two bed warmers placed there while he'd been away. He undressed quickly and slipped under the heavy blankets.

He fingered the three books, somehow, he knew they'd come from a more personal collection that the one Danny would take him to tomorrow. Sighing he opened the leather journal and started to memorise the plans of the castle.


End file.
